The Spell-Worker
by Montressor
Summary: UPDATED on 3/whatever day it is. Now Up: More of Chapter 12. This is were the language part of the PG rating comes in, even if it is brief.
1. Disclaimer

Disclaimer  
I do not own Nita Callahan, the Wizard's Oath, or anything else that is so obviously a product of Diane Duane's Young Wizards series. Timeheart may not be mine but Cyrene's version of it is. 


	2. Dreams outside of Time

Native American drums sounded everywhere, in her ears, her head, her heart, her very soul. They called to her, inviting her to join in the rhythms to come and meet someone. She followed the sound, trusting in a way she never knew possible. She followed, her bare feet slipping on the sand, lifting the beige hem of her cobalt blue night gown as she walked. She glided effortlessly up the dune, until she reached it's top and looked down to the source of the drumbeats.  
  
There were no more drumbeats. There were no drums, no people, only a small coyote and a raven. They started up the slope and stopped a foot from her, and just stared.   
  
Time passed. Time stood still. Did it really matter? Then they spoke, in voices that came from the drums.   
  
"You can not enter." said Coyote.  
  
"But why?" Her own voice had the mistiness of a ghost.  
  
"You are not ready." replied Raven.  
  
"How can I not be? I am old enough.'  
  
"You are not complete." Coyote again. "That is the key to eliminating the barrier between us."  
  
"Not complete?"  
  
"There are those who can help you .One you know already. Ask for their counsel."  
  
She wanted to ask more, but Raven let out several loud caws that twisted and turned and became the annoying buzzing of her alarm clock. 


	3. Home Life

The apartment where Liam and Cyrene Theisen now lived was a perfect fit for them. The furniture was mismatched, the beds were merely cots, and neither the air conditioner nor the heater worked, but the plumbing, stove, fridge and microwave worked perfectly, and there was a great view of the city, that was enough for them. Now it was all theirs, as their boxes of packed things announced.  
  
The first thing they had done was install shelves and a bookcase to show off their collection. Liam's portion of the shelves supported an arrowhead, a piece of the Berlin wall, a piece of the Lost Towers (A/N: It's their term for the Twin Towers) , a working 15th century crossbow, and various volumes of ancient, leather bound texts of any and every topic from Grecian political history, to the Gettysburg Address and beyond.   
  
Cyrene's half was a mixture of time: a small clay elephant shared a shelf with a statuette of Anubis, and a lizard carved out a tree branch that melded back into it's medium. Beside these was a coyote, similar to the one in her dream, sitting beside a small cacti with a pile of skulls between it's legs, all carved from a piece of some animals bone. Pottery from Cahokia sat beside a Gothic Gargoyle, a geode, a large amethyst, and several other rocks collected for no real reason. Another shelf held a small collection of barbed wire from the old West and a collection of small pewter dragons. Her book collection consisted of a first edition volume of Poe's works, Sherlock Holmes stories, a few books by Stephen King and H.P. Lovecraft and the complete collection of the Harry Potter series.  
  
It was this empty but cluttered space that Cyrene woke into that morning. She rolled out of her cot, slipped quickly into a pair of faded jeans, an oversized green t-shirt, and secondhand sneakers. Her haunted brown eyes looked herself over in the mirror as she restrained wild roan-colored hair in a ponytail without bothering to brush it and set off for breakfast.  
  
Her plate was currently filled with what would have been an omelette of eggs, cheese, sausage and hash browns, if Liam knew how to cooked that. Instead it was a blackened mess that she tried to salvage with ketchup. The tall man with a face as weather-beaten as Cyrene's sat down opposite her and poked at his half of the creation with a sour face.   
  
"I have got to look into microwave dinners." He growled, in his Texan drawl. He glanced up when Cyrene didn't respond. "What's th' matter honey?" She told him quickly of her own dream. He nodded slowly. "Any clues than?"  
  
"No Boss, not a one." Cyrene's own accent was a mixture of Southern Californian, Rhode Island, a bit of his own Texan and some New York she inherited from her grandmother. Boss was the closest she could come to Dad. She stabbed at her breakfast before dropping her fork in defeat. "Sorry, I gotta get going, dun wanna be late fer work 'gain ya know?" Liam nodded and watched as she quickly washed off the remains of her meal, grabbed her well-worn canvas bag with it's bundle of raven and crow feathers dangling from one clasp. A thought hit him as she reached the front door.  
  
"Wait." He called. He ran a hand through his short light brown hair as he looked around the room. He grabbed the napkin before him, searched the pockets of his desert fatigues and came up with a Pen. He scribbled something on the napkin "Do you mind getting some of these from the library when you go?" Cyrene clanged at the list.   
"Ya. No problem."  
"Thanks. Good luck."  
"See ya." The door almost slammed as she left.  
  
Liam tilted back in his chair and turned his gaze on the bone carving on the shelf across from him in the main room. He had always known Cyrene was different, had seen it in that determined face of hers when they first met over ten years ago. She had been his daughter for almost five of her 18 years, and since then he had become positive of her being something special. A ghost of a smile crossed his stubbled face; she had changed a lot from the ragged street rat he used to tell stories and sneak money to back in Pawtuxet. And now this dream...he knew what it meant, though he couldn't tell her. A father's pride welled up in him and made his grey eyes sparkle. To have one of them in the family (or was it another one of them? He was never sure)... it was still possible for her to be one...he had gotten her out just in time. He stood up to clean up his own plate, and spoke to whatever Being was listening. "You'll do well ta choose her, ya know. Never a better choice in years." 


	4. At the library

Cyrene had worked at a lot of jobs over the years but she never hated one so much as a 99 cent store cashier. She had four bosses and four different jobs (the register, stocking, cleaning, and picking up rejects) and each boss expected their orders to be carried out yesterday. The six other cashiers she was supposed to work with were always conviently unavailable when lines were longest and her hours varied between 8 to 10 hours a day; they had only figured out a week ago that her neatly printed application had asked for part-time work. Still it wasn't unusual to get to work at 8 in the morning and stay until 4 in the afternoon, only to be called on to fill in for someone else and work from 4:30 until well past midnight. The nicest people she could find were her customers, all of whom could only offer condolences and support. The fact that she and Liam needed her minimum wage earnings to make rent and her own desire to beat these people at their own mind games, kept Cyrene from complaining loudly or better yet, quitting.   
  
Still, that just made the few times she got a part-time day all the more freeing for then she could race down to the library and bury herself among the stories. On this particular day she made it to the huge building by 3 that afternoon. She paused to pat the paws of the stone lions guarding them steps in greeting before sprinting up the steps and through the doors.   
  
She spent the next few moments walking up and down the rows, trying to catch her breath. Her runs served no real purpose except that they helped clear her head and it helped to have somewhere to run to. She glanced up and down the shelves, looking for any book, that for some reason, she just had to have. Last time it had been Haunted America, the Scarlet Pimpernel and for the tenth time, Dragons and Dreams. This time...nothing.  
  
"May I help you?" Came a voice. Cyrene jumped and spun around. An middle aged woman with dark hair and light eyes, in glasses stood behind her. Her name was...what?...Cyrene racked her brain...Cal-cala-Callahan, that was it, or something like it. She was a part-time librarian, with an air about her that said she held a special secret. She smiled as Cyrene faced her. "Oh hello dear. Good to see you're back. Do you have a list this time, or 'just browsing' again?"  
  
"No ma'am," said Cyrene. She removed Liam's crumpled napkin and handed it to the woman, who looked it over, nodded, then began to walk, trusting the girl to follow. She spoke as she walked.   
  
"So how is your father?"  
"Not bad, got o'er that bad flu bug. Like magic ya know?"  
"I know. And your jobs." Cyrene gave a sigh from the soles of her sneakers and Callahan chuckled. "I understand completely." She continued with small talk as she removed Liam's requested volume's off the shelves, not really expecting the girl to answer. Suddenly Coyote's voice filled Cyrene's mind, repeating the advice from her dream:  
  
"You are not complete...there are those who can help you find the key...one you know already. Ask for their counsel."  
  
Liam's daughter piped up. "Whata ya know 'bout coyotes and ravens?"  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Like in the Native myths. How they always talk 'bout Coyote or Raven...what ya know?"  
Callahan's brow furrowed. "In Native American stories you mean?" Cyrene nodded "They're both known to be tricksters and bearers of wisdom, but that's really all I can tell you. It's not my strong point--but why are you asking me? You've traveled, surely you know more about it than I do?"  
"Ya I know.,...jus' wanted someone else's thought that's all." The librarian smiled again. " I have some things that you may enjoy taking with you," she responded. "A few books that are to be discarded and I know I can trust you to give them a good home. C'mon." Callahan led the way through the shelves back to the checkout desk, set the stack of Liam's requested books on the counter and left to the back room, while Cyrene rummaged in her bag for her card. The elder woman returned in a few minutes with another stack. "Will these fit in your bag?" She eyed the thing dubiously.  
  
"Oh sure," replied Cyrene confidently "it's held heavier." She slid her card over the desk top and watched as she completed her visit. She half wished she could stay longer, but Liam would be coming back from work soon and it was her turn to cook dinner, one of the few things she did better than him. She glanced over her shoulder as she left: the elder woman's face had changed, as if she had just confided her deepest secret to the girl. It wasn't until she had gotten home that Cyrene looked at her new collection for the shelves:  
  
Stephen King's Carrie (a paperback version)  
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein  
Harold Schechter's Nevermore  
Dragons and Dreams (the copy she'd checked out for so long.)  
The Dark is Rising  
Midnight Magic.   
  
But what caught her eyes most was an brown hardback, hardly thicker than Dragons and Dreams and about Cyrene's same age. It had no title on the cover or anything and looked as if it hadn't been taken out and read once since it was published. She opened the cover, wincing in sympathy with the cracking spine. Nothing on the first page. She turned and saw the title page. Two words, but they sent small shocks through her body.  
  
  
The Art.  
  
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A/N: In memory of my old job as a 99 cent store cashier, faithfully recreated in the first paragraph. And as a tribute to Sarah and Nomali, the two people (out of 20 that I worked with) who were actually good people. 


	5. The Key

"The Art?" said Liam later that night. Cyrene had been reporting her new find to him over a fancy dinner of hamburgers and Pepsi. Now the volume sat between them, opened three pages in. "The art of what?"  
  
His daughter shrugged. "Dunno. Tried ta glance it over but-" she waved her hand to indicate the shimmering words scrawled purposefully on the page.  
  
"Arabic?" he asked only to answer himself "no. Too strange even for that. Look. The way they shine, you'd a thought they were alive wouldn't you?" he chuckled.  
  
"Ya, " she said absently. The symbols were slowly starting to translate themselves before her, she had the feeling of remembering a language she had once known but long since been forced to forget. One word at least came through clearly to her. It was... "Wizard."  
  
Liam looked down, seeing nothing but the strange, glittering scribbles. "You think it's some sort of magic book?"  
  
"Dun really know Boss. If it is, why's I the first ta open it?" Her mind was suddenly filled with old stories, the sort where someone became the victim of a foul plague for unwittingly disturbing the property of a powerful being, like the stories surrounding Tutankhamun's tomb. "Ya dun think it's cursed or something?"  
  
"No, no of course not" he insisted. After a pause, he said, in a voice that was only half joking. "I think this book was meant for you."  
  
"Yer ki'in' me." She was nervous now, her accents making her voice almost intelligible.  
  
"No I'm not." Liam turned back to the title page, the only page in English, and pointed down at the bottom, where the publishing date had been written. He had only seen it because he looked for it. The date was the 17th of February, over 18 years ago, on Cyrene's birthday. She didn't answer. Part of her wanted it to be a coincidence, but she knew better than to think such things existed. He turned back to the third page. Another word was making itself known to her: Entropy.   
  
She knew the word: it meant a slow wasting away of life. Cyrene lifted her eyes to Liam. He was looking at her meaningfully, a sardonic smile on his lips that crinkled the skin around his twinkling eyes, silver as his hair was getting to be. With a bit of a shock, it occurred to Cyrene that her friend was getting old, a stab of pain came with the realization that he couldn't live forever. Entropy.  
  
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The clock in the kitchen rang out 10 o'clock that night. Cyrene rubbed her eyes. She had been sitting at the kitchen table for at least three hours, watching as the symbols translated themselves for her. Soon she had gotten caught up in reading about wizards, people whose job it was to work at preserving life in the Universe, in a way no ordinary person could do. By the sound of it, it seemed a thankless job, most people do anything to avoid seeing magic, so that any work done may go unrecognized. It also required a lot of work, discipline, and personal energy. There were rewards though; there are beings who would give credit where it is due, there was the thrill of other worlds, of communicating with other creatures, of gaining knowledge. There was a checklist of traits for a potential wizard, a surprising number of which applied to her. Cyrene's heart was now pounding furiously. It was perfect, it was what she'd been preparing and waiting for since the day she was born, the one thing that was missing from her life. It was too perfect, it couldn't possibly be true. Right?  
  
It must be, responded a hidden part of her, it just has to be. Before her now was a page entitled the Wizard's Oath. That hidden self was like a child now, begging, pleading for her to speak the words out loud, to take the Oath. But she put it aside. If this thing was real, truly real, then she couldn't just jump right in. She was one of the few people left in the world who still believed that words had meaning, had power, and a promise of any sort was a binding contract. She closed the book and placed it on the shelf with the bone coyote, wooden lizard, clay elephant, and stone Anubis. A quick "g'night" to Liam, and she went to bed.  
  
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The drums sounded again. But she was Nowhere, it was all darkness. And she was the only one there. No. Not entirely true. Before her was The Art, continually flipping it's pages to the Oath. From the corner of her eyes she caught glimpses of Coyote and Raven.. Now and again she heard their voices.  
"Do you understand the risks? And the rewards?"  
"Yes."  
"Why would you join?"  
"Because it is who I am. It is what I am."  
"You will be tested to your limits."  
"I understand."  
"You may lose up to a year's of your life's energy or more."  
"What does a bit of my energy matter, if it gives strength to so many others?"  
This seemed to satisfy the creatures. If possible, they even smiled. Then, as one they spoke.  
"Then rise dear child, and use the key."  
  
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She awoke thirsty and shuffled to the kitchen for some cold water. The clock said it was around midnight. Liam was seated on the couch in the main room, checking on the condition of the 15th century crossbow. He caught her eye. A silent exchange passed between them. He understood message right away: She was ready. He stood and followed her back to her room. The book had ended up in the middle of her bed, opened to the fateful page. She sat tailor fashioned before it, sipped from her glass and placed it on the night stand beside the bed. She read over the words until she was positive she had them right. Her brown eyes turned towards her father, where he leaned against her doorjamb. He smiled encouragingly, a silent witness to what she was about to do.  
  
The Universe quieted down to listen with rapt attention. Time itself seemed to hold it's breath and Liam looked a little younger as he watched her. She took a few deep breaths to slow her heart, then spoke aloud the words of the text, in a voice that penetrated into the consciousness of all things:  
  
"In Life's name and for Life's sake..."  
  
  
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A/N: I could have written out the whole Oath but if you're reading this fic you probably know the whole thing by heart yourself anyway. (I first read the stories when I was about nine and took the actually took the Oath when I was thirteen :::bit of an embarrassed grin:::) 


	6. First spell

A/N: ~~Donates words/thoughts/ whatever, in the Speech, because the stupid txt. format doesn't like to change font~~, for the same reason {means a regular old thought because sometimes I just get sick of doing" " }; the scenes in the flashes of light actually belong to Guy de Maupassant and, if you believe in legends, his fetch.  
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She awoke to what she hoped would be a day off. The sky was a slate grey and her open window had let in some bits of rain that now dotted her bed. She rubbed her eyes and staggered into the kitchen to silence the growling beast in her stomach, her brain not quite registering that she couldn't hear Liam's snores or the songs of the Rat Pack coming from his bedroom. She chewed on a quick breakfast of cheese and bread a pile of notebook paper and books scattered on the main room table. On top of it all lay a piece of aged typewriter paper with a grey and dirt colored hare as it's letterhead.   
  
C.-  
Called into work early. Big mess at the museum. Didn't want to wake you. Gone all day.  
-L.  
P.S.: Congratulations (look down)  
  
Cyrene's eyes turned down to the top book. The Art lay open to the wizard's directory. She had to blink before she realized what it said.  
  
Thiesen, Cyrene  
2700 Rose Ave. #283  
Hempstead, NY 11575  
(516) 698-0811  
(novice, pre-rating)  
  
A thrill surged through her small body, as much because the Oath had worked as the fact that her old name had not been used, and she had to bite her lip to supress an uncharacteristic urge to squeal with joy. She putting aside any thought of possible work by unplugging the phone (Liam knew how to reach her if he had to), before settling down into one corner of the couch and burying herself in the Art. There was no need to wait for translation, it was all as familiar as English now. She sat for the longest time devouring each word with her eyes. There was a chapter on alternate universes, one on mythological creatures, and then there were the spells : bringing stone creatures to life, travelling between the times and worlds, changing the shape of something temporarily. Each spell had at least half a page or more explaining it, how it worked, and the dangerous of it's abuse. Afterwards there was an illustration of how the spell would look, with occasional blanks for the wizard to put in specifics.Cyrene was grateful for that, her mind was more likely to mess it up if she couldn't see ahead of time what it shold look like. She read through them all, memorizing as much as she could, learning them by imagining it all in her mind until it became perfect.   
  
Soon it occurred to her {What's the point of reading about them. I won't get anywhere by just reading and memorizing}. She scanned over the spells she had learned for a starting point. {Here's one, a tel--tele---tele-something or other. Alternate method of travns-trnspor-travel, known as one of the easist spells to perform especialy when the subject knows to where and/or when they are heading. When?? Well, where should I go then?} A mischievious grin lit up her face. Wouldn't Liam be surprised to see her just appear from thin air. She looked at the page, and looked over the layout. One hand moved and traced each symbols and curve of the spells, imagining it, focusing on it, making it real, seeing it appear before her in her mind's eye and then moving it into reality. The back of her neck tingled from the strange electricity that came from the spell, which seemed to glow with a soft blue light. slowly Cyrene begane speaking the words, her hands now tracing over the spell, filling in the words where it was needed. She finished, and the world was charged with her words, making her surrondings waver and go dark with and inrush of air. Only after she had said the spell did she realize her mistake. she had meant to say the exact location of the museums break room, but it had come out ~~Take me where I am needed.~~   
  
  
Her senses were suddeny bombarded, bright light - a ship - a magnificent house - fire - screams - milk and water - and the - it couldn't be - yes -the horla. It was too much information for her to take in all at once. A Blackness overcame her, followed by a soft chuckle from far away. 


	7. The Advisors

The world Cyrene's eyes opened onto was not hers, she knew that instantly. Nor was it any place in her imagination either, she'd never imagined a place like this. The sky was clear and cloudless as blue as...well a cloudless sky. The large hill she stood on bore rolling grass of a lush and well-tended green, and the enormous white house before her spoke of a wealth she never even dreamt of having. Not far to her right was a small forest, a creek running through it, past the house, under a bridge nearby the mansion-like building. Why would she be needed here? She made an attempt to stand up, but paused at genderless something near her that said ~~Not yet. Too soon.~~ A sudden inrush of air transported her to a place of freezing cold and darkest blackness with a loud pop bringing her back to reality.  
  
The room is which she appeared was large, well-lit...and empty. She shook off her light-headedness and looked around. Slowly, as the dizziness began to wear off, she realized she had done it, she had successfully worked a spell. Her excitement was only tempered buy the memory of the casting and the scene before this one. But she quickly remembered her original mission and set off to look for Liam.   
  
It wasn't an easy task. The place was immense, twist and turns everywhere with people traveling in different imaginary lanes, some of them in packs. Cyrene had only been here once, before the doors had opened for the day, and had spent more time trying to see everything rather than find out where it was all located. Ten minutes of aimless wandering had gotten her lost, another five minutes and it became hopelessly lost. She scanned back in her memory but it was all a jumble.   
  
{Weren't gems and minerals exhibit by the fossils? Ocean Life? What? Holy Carp that's a big fish-er mammal. Hall of Bi-o-d-ver-city? Who makes up these names? Maybe I'm on the wrong floor. AH! Sunnava--that was my foot ya damned **censored**. Where's the stairs?}  
  
At the top of the third flight, Cyrene paused, panting a bit. Voices floated from the other side of the door and she could make out Liam's baritone. Old habit turned instinct overrode her plan. She needed to hear what was going on before she just showed up. Cyrene slipped through the door into the Hall of African Mammals. The voices themselves came from the Rose Center Space Theatre. This whole floor seemed to be deserted save for her and the four voices. To her left was a large "Closed for Renovations" sign. She sidled over to a group of migrating elephants and sat on the steps that supported them, her legs and the balls of her feet braced for a quick escape.  
  
Liam was speaking. "...but she's only just started."  
A second voice, with a Hispanic accent replied. "We know that, but we can't control what they decide."  
"They didn't decide. Only One did." piped up a third voice. This close Cyrene recognized it as Callahan's. She forced herself to keep her place. If she kept still, they'd let on why they were here.   
"They let Him take her away?!" Liam's voice was a mixture of anger and panic.  
"No." A fourth voice joined in, like Callahan's, but younger. "He reworked her spell."  
"Why?"  
"I think you can guess."  
There was a long pause, the sound of pacing, then Liam "But, that's not a fair fight is it, Dairine? She's only just taken the Oath, she's not prepared...""Calm down." said the fourth "We managed to re-route the spell ba–."  
"You did what?"  
"Something incredibly stupid and dangerous ta say the least." grumbled the other man.  
"What about her? What happened to my girl?!" Liam demanded. "Nita?"  
Callahan spoke after a pause to choose her words. "Her spell will more or less go according as planned. I'm sorry Liam, but it takes a lot of energy to do something of that magnitude and we can't be sure where exactly interception took place, I can only assure you that she is unharmed."  
  
There was a loud exasperated sigh, the sound of moving feet and shuffling boxes. Cyrene took this opportunity to peek through at the crowd. Directly ahead of her, Liam leaned on the railings, shaking his head, his face unusually solemn. In one of the stadium seats to his left reclined the man with the foreign accent, a tall man with dark hair and eyes. Beside him sat Nita Callahan, and few seats off sat the youngest of the party, a woman with Nita's eyes but red hair and a thicker pair of glasses. At the end of the aisle nearest to her sat an outdated laptop computer with legs.   
  
Legs?  
  
As Cyrene watched, the laptop scuttled it's way towards her, beeping as it walked. {Oh carp! It's gonna spot me eavesdroppin'. Shoo. Shoo, go 'way ya obsolete hunk a scrap} Too late. The red-haired lady had stood and was following the computer calling out "Spot come back here." Her eyes noticed the girl crouched in the next room and she paused to call out "Hey you. Who're you? What're you doing here?"  
  
Cyrene stood up and stepped into the theatre. "Boss?"  
  
The look of relief one Liam's face was so brief Cyrene wasn't sure she'd even seen it. The other adults stood to face her as the spider-like piece of metal stopped at her feet. Cyrene padded in on soft feet, right up to the four adults, aware of her steps repeating themselves in the air around her. This close she noticed that Liam's companions seemed tired, out of breath.  
  
"Cyrene." Liam said, running a hand through his hair. "How'd you get here?"  
  
Cyrene hesitated, looking warily between the other three in the room. He knew her reason and spoke as normally as possible. " So you've made it through your first spell alright then. That's great. Oh..uhh... I suppose this is as good a time as any. Cyrene these are some old friends of mine; Nita and Dairine Callahan and Kit Rodriguez."  
  
The girl nodded politely enough, but kept her hands behind her back and looked at her guardian. He continued. "I told them about your recent discovery and thought you should get to know each other soon's possible. They're the Advisors for our area."  
  
"Our area. Ya mean you--?"  
  
"No. I mean around our neighborhood."  
"Oh."  
  
A rock settled in the pit of Cyrene's stomach. She had hoped that Liam was a wizard too, that he was more than just her "legal guardian." She perched herself on one of the railings as Kit prompted. "Did you run into any trouble in the spell?"   
  
"Trouble? Like 'nunciations or somethin'? No."  
  
"What about during the spell?" They were all staring very hard at her. Warning flags went up in her mind. Why were they so interested? Has she messed up somehow? Had she broken some rule, law, or part of the Oath without knowing it, during that one simple spell? The rock in her stomach grew heavier. Where they here to take the magic away from her already?  
  
"Cyrene, we need to know; did anything unusual happen during your spell?"  
  
{Is that a trick question?} She thought again of that beautiful place by the river. That was unusual wasn't it. She couldn't exactly lie, not anymore, not when words meant so much. She'd decided it, she would tell them.  
  
NO  
  
It was something more than a voice, a large something, echoing in her head. Apparently the other four hadn't heard it, they were sitting, waiting for her answer. She looked to Liam for reassurance, but he couldn't help her.  
  
{I have ta tell them}  
  
DON'T TELL  
  
{ I can't lie. I gotta tell them}  
  
CAN'T TELL  
  
It was right. She couldn't explain it. Even those small simple, clear English words: I, house, saw; words she'd used for almost 20 years; she forgot how to pronounce them.   
  
{But I have to tell them something }  
  
"I thought I saw something, it was real quick though, so I couldn't be sure what." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't a lie either and it satisfied the adults. 


	8. Break from the Spell

A/N: A Word of Explination About This Newest Chapter.  
  
In my newest English class, our assignment was to write a passage where our chosen characters don't actually do anything. it's supposed to give us a better look at the character or something like that.To be honest I kinda stopped paying attnetion the moment he turned the lights of to show us a video at the beginning of class. This is what I came up with at a time that was so late, that it didn't really matter what time it is (I think it was 11:00 pm or something, usually when my muse kicks in but not this night).:::looks at the explanation:: Hmmmm... kinda rambling there.... that could only mean one hting... NEED MORE SUGAR!!! (It helps my Muse..ya...that's it...sure...)  
  
Ahem.   
  
I'll tell what, I'll go resupply my Sugar Stash , you read this portion and review okay? Okay then, Read on Macduff  
  
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Liam and the others had apparently planned to teach her. To help her prepare for her Ordeal, they said. Whenever she wasn't at the 99 cents store, she was at the library with Nita, the Rose Center with Dairine and the computer Spot, or a nearby community college where Kit taught. They were all willing to help her learn the Speech and new, but small spells, but mostly they taught what they knew. From Nita she learned healing and animal spells. Dairine and Spot, taught about solar systems and aliens. Kit's lessons centered around inanimate things, like rocks and metals.   
  
They tried to help, but there were still problems. First was the fact that they were teaching her at all. Her manual said that most people learned on their own, with the manual for help. She'd plagued the four for an explanation and they'd all avoided the issue. The only reason they gave, was that Liam had asked for it, fro her protection and something else they refused to mention.  
  
Then there was the lessons. Cyrene gathered from the lessons, that they had all been geniuses when younger, or at least close to one. They'd definitely had formal educations. Cyrene's education had anything but formal. The time before Liam was spent learning how to lie, cheat, and steal without being caught. The time after varied between formal education, and following Liam to be where she wasn't supposed to be. And sitting in a class room had bothered her anyway. After all, who cared about the distance between the Sun the Earth and the Moon, when there was a haunted house to be explored before the sun went down? The differences showed too, over half of what the Advisors said went in one ear and out the other (the other half didn't even reached the first ear).   
  
And then there were the dreams. Raven and Coyote no longer appeared, replaced by the image of that beautiful place. Each time she dreamt it was clearer. Each time the echo called to her, tempting her, drawing her closer to that place, to the people who lived there. And to the horla. After a full day of work and another full day's worth of learning spells, she had collapsed onto her bed only to dream about it again. And this time, someone was waiting for her. 


	9. Ordeal: ~~Where I'm needed~~

Cyrene woke with a purpose, ignoring the fact that was 3 in the morning. She slipped into the hall and listened hard for Liam. Snores came from his room. Like any sensible person he was asleep. Good. She didn't want to wake him. He'd stop her.   
  
She closed the door to her room, grabbed a small wingless ceramic gargoyle from her trunk and placed it in the center of her bed to face the door.   
  
~~Watch the door for me Great-Flyer. I'll need the protection .~~ It's eyes glowed red in response. She took the Art from the trunk and flipped to what had been her first spell. She paused, studying it.  
  
{I can't. Not without letting someone know first. But I have to know what's happening. Why I was sent there? And that Echo.... I HAVE to know. } She licked her lips nervously. As an afterthought, she put on her robe; the same cobalt blue as the nightgown she wore, with beige trim on the sleeves and edges of pockets. {Can't show up to wherever it is half-naked.}. She took a deep breath, steadied her mind and began the spell. Everything was just as she remembered it. The words were the same ~~take me where I'm needed~~, the inrush of air, the sudden blackness, the freezing cold, and then the arrival.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
Liam's eyes had opened the moment his senses recognized magic at work. He lay in bed for some minutes, listening to the spell, counting to 20 as he heard her leave. Only then did he bother getting up. Opening the door to her room, her faced the gargoyle. It's eyes glowed a bit stronger and it growled for a moment, before returning to it's watchful state. It saw no harm in Liam. A sigh escaped the aging human.   
  
"She's gone to where he wanted, didn't she?" He asked no one. Great-Flyer growled again, a different kind of noise. Liam nodded. He sat on the bed beside the ceramic statue. He saw the Art resting between them, open to the transport spell. Even now, they were all just shining scribbles.  
  
"Great Powers watch over her. I won't lose her too."  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
He was young, about 20, handsome, with trimmed hair and a twinkle in the eyes that reminded her of Dumbledore from the old Harry Potter series. He wore clothes of a rich, colorful fabric. A childish grin creased his face In a sweeping glance he took in this young woman in nightclothes and spoke in a voice as soft as his hair.  
  
"You've made it. I had expected a countryman of course, but beggars can't be choosy can they?"  
  
Countryman? He spoke English with England's voice. Was she in England? She looked towards the river. The Seine. She was in France?! Cyrene's mind spun. But, she was American. Then again she had said, where she was needed. She was needed here. For what?   
  
"I..I am sorry that I'm not of your country, but I will do what I can to help. "  
  
"Wonderful, wonderful. Ah, well, introductions first of course. My name is Alexandre. And you?'  
  
"Cyrene."  
  
"Very good to see you. Well, come on in will you?" He turned and walked towards the house. She noticed that the joyful bounce in his step was forced.  
  
Cyrene had never been rich. She had never wanted to be. A cot, a roof over her head, and a place to put her artifacts and books was the most she'd ever thought of. Alexandre's place changed her mind. Large windows let in more sunlight than she knew existed, the floors were real wood (A/N: There is such a thing as plastic wood) the curtains were lace and cloths of gold and greens and blues. The walls were a mixture of all these and and then some, with some colors dominating in certain rooms. He led her through an immense hall and into a room painted blue with white and gold trim. Armchairs, a chaise lounge, and a couch faced each other, and an oak bench sat beside a grand piano. It was the kind of place people named.  
  
"It's called Sûr Eu." Alexandre responded.  
  
"''Safe Haven.' It's nice." He waved her into an armchair and took the one across. Cyrene sank into the cushions of the chair, suddenly very much aware of her not-quite poor status and nearly non-existent array of manners.  
  
A woman with short brown hair and a simple dress followed them into the room. To Cyrene she looked to be 35 going on one hundred. Burns stood out on her skin, but she took it in stride. She spoke to Alexandre in a rapid version of an version of French the American had never bothered to learn. Her host translated. "Marie would like to know if she can interest you in something to eat or drink?"  
  
Cyrene searched her mind for how to answer that question. It had been a while since any stranger had asked it. "Water" seemed safest.  
  
"What about food?"  
  
"I'm...umm..not hungry."  
  
"No no I insist." He rattled off a set of instructions to Marie, who said something back and left.   
  
{Please, please, please} "don't tell me you sent for a someone to keep you company."  
  
Alexandre's face grew somber for a second. "Well no. A matter of fact I want to talk to you about something else."  
  
"What?"  
  
The young man hesitated. Looked around with fear marring the handsome features. He leaned close. For some reason, that made her heart start beating a bit faster, but she kept a serious face. After all, this was serious wasn't it. Her host seemed to be searching for the right words.  
  
"I...there's...I'm being..." a long pause and then words came tumbling out of him. "A while back I was...possessed I think is the word..."   
  
"The Horla."  
  
"You know about it?"  
  
"I've read a casebook about it. " It was less embarrassing than saying she'd read his diary.  
  
Alexandre's mood lifted. So did Cyrene's heart, much as she tried to stop it. "Well, than you know about what It does."  
  
"I know. How it took over, caused you to do things you didn't want, burned your house, how you tried to..."   
  
"How I tried to kill my-self. That was It's idea too. It wants to destroy, It lives for it." He looked around again and continued. "After I tried...after It tried to kill me. I was sent to a hospital. Spent about two years there. When the doctors determined I was recovered, they allowed for my release. I searched for any servants that may have survived the fire. Few had, and even fewer wanted to work for a madman. Marie is the only one who was willing to come back. I moved here, far away from the old place, where I wouldn't be known. I hired new staff. Not many of course, a groom, a gardner and a cook are the only other ones here. And Marie to keep them in line." It was strange how his smile made the bright sunlight seem bearable. "Through all this time It never returned. Not even a hint. I'm convinced that It was gone. I'd even dared to hope that It had died in that fire.  
  
"Three months ago, I dreamt. It came into my room, stared down at me as I lay there. There was hatred there. No. It was more than hatred, but I don't know what else to call it. It's hands reached out. It tried to choke me. Since than, I can feel It trying to come back. It's weaker than it was, perhaps my fire did affect It, but It's determined to return. I entrusted Marie the next morning with my secret, with the truth about It. She has a family history it seems in...errr...what you do. She said there were spells other people could do, to call for help from one of you. She taught it to me, and I've been using it for about a month. And now..here you are." He finished and leaned back in his chair as if a great wait had been lifted from his shoulders.  
  
Cyrene sat, stunned. She knew now why she was here. She was the youngest wizard (or rather pre-wizard) available. The youngest held the most power. She had been called here to defeat the Horla. 


	10. Ordeal: Alexandre

Marie and a boy brought in group of silver trays before Cyrene could think of a response. They set it on a table between her host and his guest. Marie gave the girl a look of disgust before turning the two left.  
  
{Can't blame her though. I didn't exactly dress for the trip.} The girl thought, pulling her robe closer around her.  
  
Alexandre insisted she eat with him. The meal was simple enough, bread, cheese, chicken, and fruit, with wine and water. That was the simplest thing about it. Even just between two people there were manners to be observe, and a certain way to eat, to hold a fork and knife, and use a napkin and hundreds of other things that reminded Cyrene why she never wanted to be rich.   
  
She felt completely out of place, at the same time she felt comfortable with the whole thing. Later on, she would blame Alexandre for that. He liked to talk, that much was obvious. He talked about his life before the Horla. He was noble born, but not really a nobleman. He'd had a good love life, even been engaged once, but she'd cheated on him with someone way richer. He talked about when he was younger, and playing games with his brothers and teasing his sister and their cousin Rebecca. And he talked about nothing at all. His guest listened for only three reasons: One, Sûr Eu was obviously a lonely place, and he was trying to hang on to his new companion for as long as he could. Second, she had hopes that somehow his ramblings would answer her main question: Was the Horla real, or was this man just crazy?  
  
And third (she had to admit there was a third) he had an incredible voice. Hypnotic almost. This last reason Cyrene did her best to shake off or at least ignore. She wasn't her for a date, she was here to help him.  
  
In between he asked about Cyrene, and she found herself talking freely about all she could, the world she came from, Liam, finding the manual, taking the Oath, everything she thought was safe to tell him. She had to claim not to remember life before her adoption. He had such a kind face, that she felt she had to protect him from the truth of what she'd done and had done to her before. Alexandre was interested in it all, leaning forward as she talked, his head tilted slightly, his eyes almost never leaving her face and a smile never leaving his. All the attention twisted Cyrene's stomach up in knots and made her blush a few times, for no reason she could think of.   
  
The meal ended as the sun finished setting. Marie and the boy had come by during their talk and lit almost every candle in the house, giving it a strange glow. By now Cyrene had reached a decision about the man who'd called her: if he was crazy, he was very good at hiding it..  
  
"Oh dear, I've been talking the day away haven't I?" For the thousandth time Alexandre ran his hand through his hair as he talked. "Most likely I shouldn't ask this of you. With anyone else it would be rude. But you seem to have come from quite a long ways away and, if you don't mind my saying, you look a little worn. I'd like to offer you a room here for the night. In the morning, " he continued, afraid that she would say no right away " In the morning we can discuss if anything happened. That is...if It returns during the night...and we could go from there."   
******************************************************  
As the sun set at Sûr Eu, it rose over 2700 Rose Ave. A bleary-eyed Liam stumbled from his daughter's room into the kitchen. He called up work and complained of being sick. They owed him a day anyway. He walked around as if it were a normal morning, burning breakfast and making the whole apartment choke with the scent of coffee, all the time keeping his senses open for the girl's return. He even made a show of reading the newspaper as slowly as he cold and watching something from all 13 of his Television channels, even the NASA channel. But 8 o'clock came and went, and still no word.  
  
"Screw this." He growled around 9:30. He threw down the remote and stalked off to the phone again. He pounded the keys and listened to the buzzing on the line.   
  
"C'mon C'mon hurry up."  
  
Click. Whirr.  
  
"If you know you're departments four digit extension, you may enter it at any --" Beep, beep, beep, beep. "You're call is being processed, please hold." A mechanical version of "La Vie Boheme" played for too long and then a whiny " Sciences and Shops, who're ya and whata y. want now?"  
  
"I need to talk to Kit Rodriguez.."  
  
"And I need raise and 2 months vacation time."  
  
"This is an emergency."  
  
"What is it now? House run away? Water on fire? Stub a toe?"  
  
"Just connect me Marvin."  
  
"Yes Master." Replied the whiny voice in a horrible Igor impression. Another long minutes of   
pauses followed before Kit picked up.  
  
Liam was surprised at how shaking his own voice sounded when he spoke. "Kit? She's gone. Left some time during the night. Ya. Ya I did sorta figure that out. Huh? The book? Na, 's righ' 'ere. Yes I'm sure. How bad? No you can't get back to me!! Kit?! KIT!"  
  
*************************************************************************  
Cyrene had been led by Marie into a guest bedroom on the second floor that was at least as big as her apartment. The bed itself could fit half a football team, in full uniform, comfortably. The frame work was painted, gilded walnut, and gilded iron. Something large and round was propped up in the middle of it and from it hung curtains of the same light blue silk as the sheets, blankets and pillow covers. It was out lined in a fancy edging made of some kind of flat braid, beading, and metallic threads. The curtains were attached to one of the four posters that had ostrich plume feathers poking out of the end of them. The room was decorated in the same way, white with gilded trim and gold and white curtains around the windows. Each of the four corners held and immense candelabra that support four candles each. On the wall directly across from her bed stood a full elngth mirror. The room let off an atmosphere of comfort and the ultimate in relaxation. (A/N: For reservations call 555...oh wait...nevermind)  
  
It was all comfortable. She'd had slept on floors, cots, hard ground, concrete, and in doorways and crawlspaces. She wasn't meant for a bed of silk and down. She paced the marble floor, another strange thing, and chewed her bottom lip as she thought. She was here to fight what couldn't even be seen, without even her manual to help her out.   
  
She stood before the mirror. "Why did I even agree to stay?" She asked the reflection, a child wearing blue wizard's robes. "Because you were needed here." her reflection answered. " Because The Powers That Be, think you have a shot at winning. Because you want to prove your worthy of being a wizard. " She smiled. "And because your host is a hottie." 


	11. Ordeal: Dreams That May Not Be

The darkness was not a relief.   
  
It was not freezing.  
  
It was Empty.  
  
It was suffocating.   
  
She couldn't breathe.  
  
Someone was kneeling on her chest, choking her.   
  
It's hands were weak, it didn't matter.   
  
Something else was holding her down, preventing her from doing anything more than breathing and blinking.   
  
With an effort, she focused her eyes to the blur at her right.   
  
It came into focus.   
  
A man, ageless looking, with hair like fire and blood, in clothes of shadows, stared back impassively. 


	12. Ordeal: Marie

"Liam." Said Dairine. "You realize the futility of this don't you. Even if Spot and I can locate her  
it won't much good. We cannot directly interfere. This is --"  
  
"Is her Ordeal. Ya I know." replied Liam, busy pacing a hole in his floor. "But after what  
happened that first time. How d'ya know He isn't waiting for her. You Know what he can do.  
He's done it to all of you, he'll do it to m'li'l girl too!"  
  
The three Advisors were silent. The Art sat on the living room table, taunting them. Without it,  
Cyrene was left only with the spells she knew by heart. Liam had no doubt she knew a lot that  
way, but so far from her manual, she was out of luck if she needed extra help.  
  
**********************************************************************  
Cyrene woke up the next morning, feeling more drained, more exhausted and more irritated than  
when she went to sleep. She lay in her bed, not bothering to move, and thinking of nothing. A  
knock and the sound of the to her bedroom opening helped her move again. Marie came in.  
Proud, arrogant, disapproving Marie. She didn't even bother looking the girl in the eye.  
  
"Are you going to continue in these...things Mademoiselle, or would prefer to change into more  
appropriate clothing?" Marie's voice was acid.   
  
"No, I'll keep what I got with me." replied the guest. She noticed the look of disgust on the older  
woman's face but tried to make simple conversation. " How long have you worked for him?  
  
"I was his nurse when he was a toddler. Raised him like my son. More than his mother ever did."  
  
" Oh. An' he's got no one else does 'e? No brothers...sisters...parents....other people?"  
  
"There is only me, him, and the other servants. We need no one else."  
  
Cyrene smoothed out the skirt of her robe. This was like talking to Norman Bates' Mother. Best  
to cut to the chase. "Why do you hate me?"  
  
Marie pretended to be shocked. "I don't know what you're--"  
  
"Dun Bull me Lady! I wanna know why you look like I'm some kinda whore. Fr'm wha' yer  
boss tells me, it was yer idea ta bring me 'ere in the firs' place!!"  
  
The older woman's expression turned stormy. "It was my idea yes. I wanted someone to help the  
boy. He is the closest I have to a son. I had expected someone powerful to help. Someone older,  
with more experience and wisdom. Not a baby."  
  
Cyrene bit down hard on her tongue. There was more that she wanted to say, that under any  
other circumstance she would have said. But she couldn't. Powers help her she couldn't do it. So  
she forced the words out of her mouth in as calm a manner as she could.  
  
"I am...sorry you feel that way...but I was called to help Alexandre....and that's what I'm going  
to do. Whether or not you approve of me." 


End file.
